


Bite

by MagnoliaBlue



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, No Spoilers, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 05:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19846492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnoliaBlue/pseuds/MagnoliaBlue
Summary: Emmie used to pray for adventure. Before, that is. To be fair, this was not exactly what she had in mind.Whoever was listening clearly had a sense of humor.





	Bite

Emmie used to pray for adventure. _Before_ , that is. To be fair, this was not exactly what she had in mind.

Whoever was listening clearly had a sense of humor...

It had been raining hard for nearly a week by the time she had stumbled across anything resembling civilization. Valentine, the bartender had said. Not like it mattered. Valentine was as good a place to be as any other. 

“Can I get you something else miss?” The bartender gestured to her untouched coffee. 

It was cold by now, still where he had placed it nearly an hour ago.

“Food’s not very good, but it’s warm,” he offered.

Emmie’s eyes flickered to his neck before forcing a smile.

“Maybe just a fresh cup?”

“Sure,” he grinned. “But I don’t expect it’ll taste any better than the first.”

Emmie shrugged. She wasn’t here for the coffee.

“Alright then.” 

He placed a new cup in front of her with an easy smile.

“Holler if you need anything.”

She nodded as she wrapped her hands around the small glass. There was a large chip, cut just above the lip. A layer of old coffee and dirt clung to its edges. Her nails tapped against it with a soft clink. It was hot at least.

She’d always preferred tea.

Not like that mattered either. 

If the last twenty-nine years were anything to go off of, it was fairly clear what Emmie wanted didn’t factor into the world order much. Painfully clear even.

Being murdered on your wedding night by your new husband didn’t exactly scream the universe was looking out for you.

Waking up a vampire the next day? _Even less so._

She frowned, tongue running gently along the edge of a too sharp tooth. She would need to feed soon. Her gaze shifted around the room-- crowded despite the early hour.

_So many men._

She could hear their heartbeats loudly, almost taste their blood. Her mouth watered. It had been too long.

She hadn’t accounted for the rain keeping people inside. Keeping people safe.

_From me._

Her stomach turned even as her shoulders straightened. There was no avoiding it anymore. _Not now._ She had died once already, violent and bloody. But she was alive now, at least…. closer to alive than not. And if she wanted to keep it that way?

She’d need more blood.

“We don’t need trouble today Jimmy.”

The man, _Jimmy,_ collapsed against the bar top next to her with a loud thud. His clothes were wet, soaked from the rain. A thick layer of mud clung to the side of his face, as if he had been lying on the ground recently. He swayed back, waving the bartender off.

“Just giv’me a damn whiskey,” he growled.

Emmie wrinkled her nose. Never did like the taste of drunks.

 _Rotten._

The man shifted closer to her. The smell of cheap liquor, thick and biting, burned her nostrils. His lips curled into an ugly smile. 

“Well, well…” he drawled. “Ain’t ya just a pretty lil’ thing.”

Her fingers twitched against the side of her coffee. It would be so easy to reach out and take. No one would be able to stop her, least of all him. 

Her gaze flicked upwards with a sigh. 

“Go away.” 

“Aww don’t be like that sweetheart,” he crooned, shifting even closer. “My money’s just as good as anyone else’s.”

She resisted the urge to lean back, away from the foul odor that clung to the air around him. Her jaw ticked.

“Not a working girl _sweetheart_.”

He laughed at her words, a wheezing and cruel cackle.

“Sure look like a whore to me.” 

“Leave her be Jimmy,” the bartender warned. His hands were wrapped around a glass, knuckles sharp and white. A single bead of sweat sat perched on his brow.

Jimmy laughed louder. 

“And why would I wanna do that?” he asked. His gaze lingered on her chest for a long moment. “’Sides, this is between me and the lady, ain’t none of your business.”

“Well, if it is between the two of us…” Emmie smiled slowly, baring her teeth.

“Then the _lady_ would like you to fuck off.”

Jimmy growled as his hand snaked out, grabbing her wrist. She swallowed back a snarl as she fell forward against him. His blood, bitter and stale, tickled at the back of her throat.

He flushed a dark splotchy red.

“Now that’s not very lady like.”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Or what?”

Emmie hissed as the grip on her wrist tightened. Her fangs lengthened, itchy against her gums. Perhaps she’d settle for his blood after all.

“Let her go.”

A voice behind her cut through the loud room with ease. It was deep, almost a growl. For the first time since she walked in, the room was quiet.

 _So much for her meal._

Jimmy’s smile tightened as he looked over her shoulder. A flash of recognition. The grip on her wrist loosened. 

“Now.” The man ordered in the same measured tone.

She heard him shift and then he was in front of her, blocking her view. He was… _big._ His body seemed to reach across her entire field of vision.

Emmie’s eyes widened.

The shirt he wore fit poorly but there was no mistaking the hard line of muscle beneath the fabric. He barely fit in the space between her and Jimmy, the edge of a long dark braid tickling the top of her knee. She was struck by the sudden desire to reach out and touch him. He was so close. Too close. She held her breath.

Jimmy released her arm.

“Didn’t mean no harm.”

He stumbled back, hands up in a placating gesture as he edged towards the door. _Liar._

“Sure,” the stranger- _her rescuer_ \- drawled.

The stranger waited, unnaturally still, until Jimmy had disappeared from view onto the street. The back of his leg brushed against her knee as he finally shifted and turned. Emmie’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact.

She was so hungry. If she could just-

“Are you alright miss?”

Her eyes snapped open as her head fell back to meet his gaze. _Shit._ She swallowed. She could certainly appreciate why the man had left without much of a fight- even if she had no reason to be afraid of men anymore.

Because he did look dangerous. 

It was his eyes that caught her attention first- dark brown and angry. His gaze never wavered, just watched. It made her feel exposed, as if he somehow _knew._ She sucked in a harsh breath.

“I’m fine.”

He nodded once in response, drawing her attention lower. His lips were full, almost sensual, but pulled in a tight line. She imagined he didn’t smile often, if ever _._ A muscle at the back of his jaw jerked. Her eyes snapped up.

She barely repressed a shudder at the coldness in his stare. _Great._ She cleared her throat twice before speaking.

“Thank you” The words tumbled out too fast- too sharp.

Her lips curled in a tight smile. She was out of practice with gratitude. 

He didn’t seem to notice though. If anything, he looked… _uncomfortable._ His weight shifted back, gaze flitting about the bar. It reminded her of a cornered animal. Her brow furrowed.

“You didn’t have to help.” 

_Hell, why had he?_ She didn’t think she could actually remember the last time someone had tried to help her. And she certainly did not remember anyone ever looking so upset about it after.

“Maybe not,” he huffed. The corner of his mouth twitched once before falling back into a scowl.

_Talkative._

She bit her lip to stop from smiling. His eyes caught the movement, lingering only a second before turning away. She shivered. 

He was also handsome, if a little intense.

Not that it mattered.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, scratching at the back of his neck. The movement drew her attention to the exposed skin. His shirt collar was open.

A warm burning tickled the back of her throat.

“Yes, I’m …”

The words dissolved into a gasp as he rolled his shoulders, head tilting just far enough to expose the line of his neck to her. _Like an offering._ Lust and hunger pooled heavy in her belly. _Prey._ She swayed forward. He was so close now, barely an arm’s length away. She licked her lips. It’d be easy. She could reach out and-

“Sorry about that ma’am.”

Her jaw snapped shut with an audible crack. _No!_ She stood, barstool scraping across the floor. The stranger stumbled back, out of reach. She looked to her right. The bartender’s eyes were wide, hands held up in apology. His pulse quickened. Saliva pooled in her mouth. _Bite._

She pinched the bridge of her nose. The burning in her throat was louder now, almost painful. It was _wrong_. Too fast, too soon. She dragged a hand over her face. 

“It’s not your fault,” she ground out. A hysterical laugh sat on the edge of her tongue. She should have had more time. And now…she spared a glance around the bar. Oh god, there were so many people here- she didn’t want to kill them all. She didn’t want to kill _him._

_Monster._

A surge of panic propelled her forward.

“I have to go.”

She grasped wildly about for her things, turning this way and that. Her mind screamed at her to run, to bite- always to bite. In her frenzy, she sent her hat flying to the ground. _Leave it._

The stranger snarled.

Emmie’s head snapped up with a crack. She froze. He was glaring at her, nostrils flared. The steady thrum of his heartbeat rattled in her head.

“You said you were fine,” he growled.

“What?” she shook her head. She tried to focus, to understand but everything was just so loud. He was so close; they were all so close.

“That.”

Every muscle in her body tensed as he moved. Thick heavy footsteps smacked against the ground, bringing him closer and closer. Her fingers itched to cover her ears.

His hand came forward as he stopped in front of her, reaching down. Her chest hitched. He was going to touch her. He couldn’t.

She flinched back.

He paused; his hand suspended in midair towards her own. She looked down. 

_Oh._

A faint bruise had already begun to blossom against her pale skin. _The outline of a handprint._ It’d be gone in a few minutes.

Her teeth clenched.

“It’s nothing.”

He scoffed. His hand still hovered above her own. Warmth radiated from his skin, just out of reach. She closed her eyes. One twitch and his hand would touch her own. 

When she finally looked back up, his expression had softened. 

“It’s not nothing.”

His eyes flitted up and back down, as if to ask permission. She wasn’t even sure what he was asking but she knew she should say no. She should pull her hand back. She should run. Do literally anything else.

Instead, she nodded.

Her mouth fell open, transfixed as his fingers slowly curled around her wrist. Inch by inch. Gentle, almost reverent. A tiny shudder worked up her neck. _Too close._ The pad of his thumb hovered just above the edge of the handprint and a trail of goosebumps erupted beneath it. _Want._

She swayed, dizzy with warmth.

His thumb grazed the inside of her wrist and she gasped. 

They both froze.

The color drained from his face, a wild look in his eyes as he dropped her arm. _As if she had burned him._ A faint blush, pale pink, creeped across his cheeks.

The bloodlust nearly knocked her to the ground.

Her mouth fell open, upper lip curling back. She staggered, catching herself against the barstool. A wild cry, pained and feral, ripped from her throat.

_And then she ran._

She heard his voice, calling out to her to wait but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She had to get away from here. Away from him.

She collided with the saloon doors, stumbling onto the street. It was too bright, too loud. She fell back a half step, then two. She could still hear him. His pulse hammered in her ears, almost violently. It taunted her as she stumbled forward. A horse reared up, someone screamed. _No!_

She looked up. A dark alley, just across the street. Her knees buckled. _Move!_ Five steps and she was out of the road. _Move!_

One more.

She hit the ground, hard. Her fingers dug into wet dirt and she whimpered. His scent- pine and leather- hung thick in the air. 

She dug into the ground harder. Her nails flexed against the force, threatening to break.

“Miss?”

_Shit._

She tensed. _No, No, No. Why had he followed her?_ Her fingers trembled, still dug into the ground.

“Miss?” he repeated, taking a step closer. 

A tremor ran down her back. _That voice. God._

She managed a nod.

“You forgot your hat.”

Her eyes snapped up. _What?_

He raised his right hand, her worn hat hanging limply in his grip. His fingers flexed against the brim, the muscles in his forearm rolling, powerful and thick. Her lips parted.

“My hat.”

Her voice came out too thick, a husky tone she barely recognized.

He faltered. His heart beat faster. It was like a wave of pleasure rolling down her spine. Her eyes watered. She could almost taste him. He took a step closer.

_No._

She fell back, her eyes widening as her arms came out in front of her. Begging for him to stop.

He froze.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he soothed.

There was an edge to his voice that she didn’t understand. His hands were outstretched as if speaking to a wounded animal. Emmie’s throat burned.

_That’s not what I’m afraid of._

“Are you…ok?” His eyes shifted around the alley, alert.

“Fine.”

It sounded like a lie, even to her own ears. She closed her eyes once more. She could run. It wasn’t too late yet. _Why wasn’t she running?_ He’d never be able to catch her.

“I can help you, if you’ll let me.” His voice washed over her. Soft and genuine.

Her body vibrated with need. She blinked up at him. He was so close now. She could almost reach out and touch him. Emmie shuddered at the thought.

She was too far gone.

_Just a taste._

A whine ripped from her throat.

“Please,” she begged.

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails drawing darkened blood. His eyes widened.

“Stop!”

He dropped to his knees in front of her, causing her to sway back. She watched, unable to move away as his hands wrapped around her own once more. His lips pursed as he looked down at the tiny crescent shaped marks in her palm. Her blood smeared across his thumb.

_You should have run._

Emmie shook her head even as she lifted a hand to his cheek, trembling. Why did he have to be so kind to her? His stubble was rough beneath her touch- the skin warm. Her hand began to shake violently as her fingers trailed a path down his neck. She _wanted._

She was sure she had never wanted anything as much. 

He tensed. 

“What are you-,” he stopped, sounding pained. “That’s not- you don’t owe me that.”

His kindness hurt almost more than her hunger. Almost.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she admitted, her gaze frozen on his lips. It would be so easy to close the gap.

Her teeth ached.

He didn’t understand.

“I need,” she took a deep breath. _Just a taste._

She lifted his hand to her lips, tongue snaking out to lick the length of his ring finger. Lust and salt and desire. It was intoxicating. Overwhelming.

He cursed, a ragged and breathless sound. Her fat fell to the ground forgotten.

_Fuck._

She wanted to hear it again.

“I’m sorry.”

Her mouth descended hungrily on his, swallowing a startled gasp. She moaned at the sudden warmth. He tensed, lip quivering against hers. A sob bubbled up her throat. It was too much. Not enough. He was… _not moving._ Oh god, what was she doing?

She tried to pull back, to release him. A pitiful whine tore from her as she managed to let his lips go. _She would run, she could run._ She tried to stand but then his hands were in her hair yanking her back. With a growl, his lips were on hers. His nails scratched against her scalp, pulling her impossibly closer. She shuddered at the change.

It was rough and demanding, his tongue driving into her mouth. His lips were full. Warm. The intensity made her dizzy.

She wanted more.

Her fangs lengthened, catching his bottom lip as she rolled it beneath her teeth. She almost cried out as his blood finally filled her mouth. Rich and sweet. He bucked up against her, the evidence of his own arousal hard against her hip. She sucked harder, feeling a wild desperation.

Something savage and hot unfurled from her belly. Powerful. His fingers dug into her hips and her vision went white. Lust and hunger won out with a gnashing of lips and teeth and curses.

And then,

it was quieter.

Their movements slowed, the kiss becoming more and more languid. She swiped his bottom lip with her tongue, gentler now. Savoring. She felt him lean back, away from her with one last kiss at the corner of her mouth. Resisted the urge to follow.

His head lifted slowly; bottom lip stained red with blood. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the narrow alley.

“Christ.” His head fell back on a long and guttural groan.

Her stomach dropped.

_Oh God…What had she done?_

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” She said. Her hands flew to his neck, where his pulse should be. She hesitated. Tears stung the back of her eyes. She’d hurt him, she hurt everything. A string of broken apologies fell from her lips.

_Monster._

He opened his eyes.

“You’re beautiful.” 

She inhaled sharply. The awe in his voice made her chest ache with guilt. She settled a shaky hand against the curve of his neck. The muscles jumped, twitching beneath her touch. _Alive._

He was alive and… _laughing?_

She drew back and then he smiled at her. A real smile, one that made her tongue feel heavy.

“Why do you keep apologizing?”

“I-” she stopped. 

_They had company._

“Damn Charles.”

_Charles._

In one quick motion, he had them both on their feet. His hand snaked back, holding her upright against him. She spared a glance behind her. The alley backed up to forest.

“Arthur,” he greeted the man.

His voice sounded strained even as the tension bled from his shoulders quickly.

“Charles,” she whispered. His hand tightened against her, digging into the flesh of her hip. She just managed to stop herself from leaning forward. 

_So not good._

“Goodbye Charles,” she whispered.

He tensed, as if to turn around but she was quicker this time- no longer distracted by her hunger. In less than a second, she was gone. Too quick for a human to track. 

This time, she didn’t stop running. 

* * *

“Christ,” Charles whispered, feeling light headed.

What the hell had just happened? His finger ghosted over his lip. _Had she bit him?_ The realization made him almost painfully hard.

“And here I imagined you weren’t the paying type,” Arthur drawled.

“I didn’t pay her,” Charles gritted his teeth. 

“Who the hell was that then?”

Arthur gestured to where she had been standing just seconds before. _How had she gotten away from him so quickly?_

Charles hadn’t even felt her move.

“I... don’t know.” He admitted, his lips curling into a frown. _You don’t know?_ Maybe he really was a bastard. He had barely said a full sentence to her, let alone asked her name. 

Charles adjusted the collar of his shirt, feeling too hot at the memory of her words, of her. _I need._

“You don’t know?” Arthur repeated, slower.

There was brief moment of silence before Arthur laughed, hearty and loud. Charles’s eyes narrowed.

“So, let me get this straight,” Arthur pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

“A woman, who looks like that,” he lit the cigarette in a practiced motion. “Kisses you like that,” he paused. “for the hell of it, mind you.”

“And you don’t think maybe I should ask her god damn name?”

Arthur took a long drag of his cigarette, shaking his head in disbelief.

“And here I thought you might be the smart one.”

Charles sighed.

“Fair point.”

He had thought…hell, he had thought she was afraid of him. She had been shaking when she touched him. _Shaking._ But then she had kissed him and he might not be the most experienced lover, but he knew she liked it. He didn’t think he’d ever get the sound of her moaning against him out of his head.

What the hell had she kissed _him_ for?

Women that beautiful didn’t make a habit out of kissing him in alleyways—or at all.

He almost groaned remembering her lick the length of his finger. It had been unexpected. _Hot._ Everything about her had been unexpected. He couldn’t remember ever having actually seen a woman that beautiful before. 

_Christ._ He hadn’t meant to touch her, back in the saloon. His fists clenched, nails digging into the skin of his palms at the memory of that bastard’s handprint on her arm.

It made him regret not tearing the guy apart. She wasn’t his to touch.

_Not yours either._

“Why are you here.” Charles snapped, stalking towards Arthur. Apparently, he wasn’t going to go away. He rolled his shoulders, feeling agitated. Restless. In need of release.

“You are hopeless,” Arthur chuckled as he clasped a heavy hand down on Charles’ shoulder. 

“Shut up,” he brushed Arthur’s hand off.

Arthur raised his hands up in front of him, stupid grin still plastered on his face.

“Sorry to interrupt. Truly.”

Charles didn’t think he looked sorry. He looked delighted, practically bouncing on his toes.

“Dutch is looking for us, a job…. something about a train.”

Charles groaned.

“I hate trains.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you need a reminder to not bite strangers in alleyways, I can't help you.


End file.
